Lorcan Scamander and the Eternal Flame
by Ember Nickel
Summary: Challenge response: Lorcan Scamander has never cursed in Latin, raced through a dungeon maze, or danced at a ball. Yet.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Many lines of dialogue will be in German; those will be offset in italics. Enjoy!_

"For the last time—hey, this _is_ the last time I'll have to put up with you nagging at me!" Lysander Scamander gave a weak grin, not looking up at the twin an inch and a half above him. "But in all seriousness, even if I wanted to leave now how could I? I've already started my actual classwork."

"So have I," Lorcan shot back. "So has everyone else."

"But I'd need to pack and all..."

"But don't you want to see Norway?"

"I've already seen Norway. Remember when we were—"

"Snorkack-seeking with Mum, yes. That's what this is about, isn't it? You know perfectly well you'd make a great champion, you just don't want to represent Hogwarts."

"That wouldn't make me a great champion, then, would it?"

"Look, Lysander, think about how many kids are jealous of you for having the chance, they'll fall through the cracks. There's only a seventh of the school who can even try—"

"Well, the second years will get their turn five years from now."

"If they still have one—"

"If something goes wrong to make them _not_ have one, I definitely don't want any part of it. And some of the sixth years are eligible, of course. And the first years will be...it works out to one in three, not one in seven."

"Oh, forget the arithmetic and come on."

"One in three," Lysander repeated. "One Hogwarts champion matched up against two others. What business do I have, do _any_ of us have, representing Hogwarts? Switch my uniform around and I could _pass for a Durmstranger. So could you._"

"The tournament's all about encouraging international friendship, isn't it? You'll fit right in. Maybe pick up a cute German date."

Lysander rolled his eyes. "Forget it. No, you go. We're old enough to not do everything the same anymore."

"You're right," Lysander sighed. "Twin handshake?"

The twin handshake did not involve the contact of hands. It had begun as them circling their fingers around each other's; once they were old enough to control their magic, increasingly elaborate magitechnics had been added to the point that their year-mates who saw it were glad they did not share a dormitory.

Lorcan's fingers were larger and nimbler, but Lysander went through the motions with equal gusto. "Right," Lorcan awkwardly nodded. "Be seeing you."

"Yeah. Have fun."

Five carriages were parked outside the gates; Headmaster Ryllis appeared to have one to himself, while the three sixth-years spread out. Lorcan took his place in the last carriage, alongside Brandon McMillan, a Hufflepuff, and three of his Gryffindor classmates. At last, when Diana Claver from Ravenclaw settled in, looking somewhat annoyed, Ryllis raised his arm to the students congregated outside.

"I shall leave Hogwarts in Professor Fawcett's most capable hands. I would ask that you respect her as you would me, but that is in some cases rather too little to ask." His eyes lingered on a gaggle of snickering Slytherin third-years. "Now, how about a preemptive round of applause for all your daring schoolmates—and the champion-to-be!"

At the roar that followed, the carriages slowly began rising into the air. Lorcan caught sight of Lysander's pale hair for an instant before the students blurred into a mass. The lake remained visible a moment longer than the castle itself—some trick to make it invisible to passing airplanes?—then it too was gone.

"How high are we going?" worried Brandon.

"Probably not too high," shrugged Diana. "But here, _Dephlogistos._"

Lorcan couldn't see anything different, but Brandon whirled. "Oi! What was that?"

"An air bubble across your face. Not that we'd really need one, anyway, but can't be too careful. Anyone else need one?"

"We'll see," said Lorcan. Indeed, they had been leveling off and were now proceeding north, towards the Continent.

No one wanted to get out a book or play Exploding Snap, it was such a long way down even if none of them though they would drop anything, so they spent most of their time just talking. "Can you see them?" Brandon asked after a lull.

"See what?" asked Diana.

But Lorcan had a guess. "The thestrals? No." He smiled thinly. "I know a lot about animals, though, my mum's taught me a lot."

"Oh," said Diana skeptically. He didn't bother to pick a fight.

Indira Gupta was biting her long braid nervously, so Lorcan changed the subject. "D'you reckon they'll ever open the tournament up to more schools? Sicily have got one, I know, and I think Denmark has a smaller school."

"I hope not!" said Brandon. "Competition's tense enough with three."

"I'm not sure. I guess that really depends on whether the whole point is actually about "promoting magical cooperation."" Indira made quote marks in the air with her fingers. "If they aren't doing it this time, I don't see why they would in the future."

About noon, or so Lorcan thought, Ryllis guided his carriage over towards theirs. "I'm sure Durmstrang will have some rousing fare in store for the evening," he said, "but until then, sandwiches ought to do the trick."

He waved his wand and slowly guided two large sacks over the thin but unnervingly tall gap between the two carriages. Diana plucked it out of the air. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome," he said, gliding towards a carriage full of Slytherins.

This left Diana in charge of handing out the lunches, a task which she took quite seriously until realizing they were identical. Each student had one sandwich, a flagon of milk, and a tart (except for Joseph Mulrooney, who attempted to trade his with that of Phillipa Creevey in another carriage, and missed).

They flew over water, slowly, which made it difficult to tell how far they'd gone and how far was left to go. The sun went down, which made visibility very difficult for Lorcan, Joseph, and Indira (who had picked the wrong side of the carriage to sit on), so their eyes were closed when Meaghan Baker called "Look!"

Squinting, Lorcan turned and gasped at the approach of several winged horses flying in unison. And behind them—

"The Beauxbatons carriage!" Brandon gasped. "We must be almost there."

"Or just flying along the same path," Diana shot back, but within half an hour they were unmistakably descending. Lorcan, shivering, looked about but couldn't catch sight of the school until it immediately came into full view, dark and squat but with windows lit in anticipation.

A moment later, they landed more roughly than he'd expected; the pets accompanying their owners in the carriage squealed in frustration, and Meaghan shivered, but at least they were on solid ground. Next to them, the other students began piling out.

"No need to bring your suitcases," said Ryllis, "they shall be most secure."

"Professor Ryllis?"

An enormous woman had emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage; the emerging crowd of students behind her paled in comparison. Ryllis seemed to want to kiss her hand, but that would have been very impractical.

"Madame Maxime!" he settled on bowing. "It is an honor."

Only then did Lorcan notice the students on the broad stone steps outside the school; Durmstrang students had come out to greet their guests. A tall man had come down to shake Ryllis' and Maxime's hands; Lorcan assumed he was the Highmaster.

"Come along inside!" Ryllis waved. "I'm sure a wondrous feast is in store."

Lorcan's first thought upon passing through the thick doors, engraved with Sphinx heads, was that the school was quite cold. The grounds had also been quite cold, granted, but perhaps he was more prepared for it. At any rate, as they proceeded along a low-ceilinged corridor, he shivered angrily and hoped they'd get access to their extra robes soon.

Durmstrang's Great Hall was, in Lorcan's estimation, less fancy than Hogwarts'. Its ceiling was essentially bare, though he could see lots of enterprising former students' carved names. Rather than long house tables, there were seven relatively short tables facing a high table, raised several steps at the front of the room.

"Highmaster Arany has suggested that you seat with your agemates," Ryllis murmured. "Abercrombie, Somerville, Fitzwilliams, if you would join the fifth-years?"

"We're sixth-years, Professor," Margaret Somerville glared.

"Ah, but of course. In Durmstrang, however, students begin aged twelve, so you would be of an age with the fifth-years here."

"There's room over here," said a black-haired girl, waving Margaret over.

This meant that the twenty-one Hogwarts seventh-years and those from Beauxbatons—Lorcan couldn't count them, but there seemed almost as many—were expected to squeeze in alongside the Durmstrang sixth-years, while five other tables remained at normal capacity. The Durmstrang sixth-years did not seem any more pleased about this arrangement than their visiting counterparts, but had little say in the matter. Lorcan found himself squeezed tightly between two large boys, with Slytherin Winifred Bloom the only Hogwarts student within reasonable talking distance.

Sighing, he turned his attentions to the food magically appearing from the table. It at least was quite good; various types of fish, salads, and, eventually, a three-layer cake. No one in his section of the table seemed interested in conversing, except the boy on his left who was muttering to a girl further down about a paper they had to write. Not that much further, of course. The packing would have been more frustrating had it not been for how _cold_ he was.

Just before the physical discomfort would have canceled out his happiness at the food's rich flavor, Lorcan's attention was grabbed by Highmaster Arany.

He had begun to speak.

He had begun to speak, in Latin.

And the Durmstrang students were hanging on his every word, as if they knew what he was talking about.

As the Highmaster continued to prattle, Lorcan tried to think logically. That girl had overheard Ryllis talking to Margaret, and invited her over to her table, in English. So at least some of the Durmstrang students knew English. But none of them were making any effort to translate. And, he saw as he glanced at a shrugging Winifred, most of his fellows weren't any better off than he was. Nor did the Beauxbatons students seem particularly confident.

There was one other thing he could try. "Er," he said. "Was sagt er?"

"Du sprichst Deutsch!" smiled a Durmstrang girl with long, curly, hair. She seemed a bit dim, though...

"_Yes. Now, what's he saying?"_

"_You have a very nice accent."_

"_Thank you. Do you mind translating?"_

She tilted her head at him, then waited a moment. "_He's just introducing the headmasters—Mr. Ryllis must be yours, Madame Maxime, of course, and the other judges."_

She paused. Arany was nodding at a woman who seemed about Lorcan's parents' age. "_A talented winged horse racer...Mathilde Skjeggestad!_"

There was a hush as the girl waited to translate the headmaster's other guest. Lorcan realized that the Durmstrang students would know perfectly well who at the head table was visiting rather than a professor, but he couldn't tell who the final judge would be. That imposing-looking witch with the bright red hair? Arany's, he realized, was a quite unnatural shade of green. Or maybe the other judge was that very old wizard at the end of the table.

"_a man who needs no introduction, of course...Viktor Krum!_"

There was a beat of silence for Lorcan, confusion almost, before he got swept up in the applause that bounced through the stony hall. Viktor Krum had never been an attractive man, and was even less so with age, but he gave a tight, polite smile as the murmur gradually faded.

"_Now he's just going on about the tournament—you're all of age, aren't you?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Right, so that won't be a problem—you have twenty-four hours to enter, I assume your lot are all entering?"_

"_Yeah. Are you?"_

"_No, hang on—hah, yes,"_ she laughed. _"Arany's just going on about how they've got even more security this year. That's what they said last time."_

Lorcan gulped. _"Well, there's no dark wizard sitting around, waiting to be restored to life."_

"_Everyone thought Voldemort was really dead, didn't they?"_

"_Well, I think Dumbledore or someone knew..."_ Lorcan struggled to recall what he knew of History of Magic. The Second War was different, seeing as how his mother and her schoolfriends had been to a large extent the ones fighting it.

Before she could respond, the students rose from their seats. Led by the formidable Maxime, the Beauxbatons students headed towards the outer doors.

"Er—does anyone know where we're staying?" said Lorcan. Brandon shook his head. Ryllis seemed to be in rapid conversation with Arany about something.

Finally, with Arany glowering, Ryllis beamed and made his way towards the second student table from the front (where the three sixth-years had joined their schoolmates).

"The Beauxbatons students," he explained, "will be returning to their carriage. However, as our own carriages are perhaps unable to..._weather_ such temperatures, Highmaster Arany has agreed to let us lodge within the castle, in the spirit of international cooperation among wizardkind."

International cooperation among wizardkind did not seem to be the highest priority of the students.

"As many students as wish to do so may share the sixth, or fifth-year, dormitories. Should capacity prove problematic, there are some unused classrooms you may choose to inhabit."

"Can't we stay in the other dorms?" asked Robert Price, another Slytherin.

"The Highmaster discourages that. It would be like sleeping in the wrong House at Hogwarts."

"Er—Professor?" asked Margaret. "Those of us who don't make it in, will we be taking lessons with the Durmstrang students?"

"Everyone will be expected to continue taking lessons. That includes the school champion!"

"Oh," she said. "Only, I don't speak Latin, I'm not sure about the rest of you but—"

"Me neither," Lorcan rushed to add, while several others chimed their assent.

"Those of you who wish to attend classes with your peers may do so. The rest will have lessons with me; I'll print up a schedule soon. Granted, that makes twelve classes I have to teach rather than seven like a normal teacher would, so I highly recommend you take in at least some classes here even if you don't understand every word—what you get from me will be rather thinly-stretched."

"Twelve classes?" said Michael Fitzwilliams. "Er, what about us sixth-years?"

"That would include you. Next year, it may perhaps be more advisable for you to take classes with _that_ year's sixth-years."

"Waste of time, this," he muttered, but Ryllis pretended not to hear.

There were a few Durmstrang students waiting outside the hall. "I'm not even going to bother with the dormitories," said Lorcan. "Just show me the open classrooms."

One of the boys smiled. "This way."

Great, everyone was willing to speak English except the Highmaster.

Another Durmstrang boy muttered to himself in a language Lorcan didn't recognize, then looked up. "Okay. I think the dormitories can fit all the fifth-years, and maybe five more sixth-year girls and boys each."

"Don't push it," said Diana, raising her eyebrows at Margaret.

Lorcan and half of the other seventh-years followed the first boy who'd spoke up a flight of stairs—that didn't move!—and down a dim corridor into a room with a wide window and several cots pushed up against the walls. "There're bathrooms down the hall," he muttered before taking off.

"Where're all our clothes?" Joseph asked.

"Ryllis'll probably bring them," said Indira. Her optimism was borne out five minutes later when the Headmaster walked by, pushing a trolley.

"Here are your personal belongings," he smiled. "Owls have been dispatched to the Durmstrang Owlery. I have brought some other animals along—no allergies, correct? If you have any you really shouldn't be competing."

Heads shook. "Was that a hint, Headmaster?" asked Robert.

"Not necessarily, but there are plenty of traps a champion might face. I do hope your pets can keep their noise levels down, for the respect of your fellow students. I shall come by to rouse any stragglers for breakfast tomorrow."

And with that, he departed.

There turned out to be one extra cot, but it was a tight fit once they'd all packed in. Lorcan was one of the first to shower; to his displeasure, the range of available temperatures ran roughly between "cold" and "cold."

But when he got back to the room, he could not have slept even if it had been dark or quiet. The others were buzzing, mostly about Viktor Krum. "D'you think there's gonna be a Quidditch task?"

"Not Quidd_itch_. Probably something you'd want to fly for, though."

"I can't believe they'd bring him back, wouldn't they want to distance themselves from the old tournament?"

"They can't distance themselves from the old tournament, they've got the goblet and all."

Lorcan lay back, quiet but asking himself the same questions in his mind. He thought he'd never get to sleep, what with all the discussion, but...


	2. Chapter 2

His head felt woozy when he dragged himself out of bed the next morning. "Up you get, then," Ryllis said, too perkily. "Quite the adventure in store for us today, haven't we?"

Oh. Right. The names.

The thought of entering his name in the goblet _was _enough to drag Lorcan out of bed and put on school robes. He wrote his name on a spare bit of parchment; _Lorcan Scamander, Hogwarts._ For a moment he wanted to add "School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," but he decided against it. Just Hogwarts was enough.

The Hogwarts students made their way down to the big hall they'd sat in the previous night; the goblet was set up just behind it. As the last of the Beauxbatons stragglers deposited her name in and joined the others in the large hall, the Hogwarts delegation stepped forward.

The first to enter was Lindsay Becker, a tall Ravenclaw who Lorcan thought played Quidditch. He waited until near the end, entering his name after Brandon and before Dory Abercrombie. As he dropped it in, the parchment seemed to sizzle and disappear. For a brief moment he was afraid it had been burned up, but when Dory's and then Margaret's did the same thing, he assumed it was normal. There was no way of seeing into the goblet; he could not tell how many Durmstrang students had entered.

But that was rife on the others' minds as they sat down to breakfast (thankfully, most of the Durmstrang sixth-years had already eaten, so there was room to spread out at the table). "It's not really fair if two full years worth of students have the chance to enter, is it?" Indira groused.

"How is it unfair?" asked Robert. "They'll have one champion, so will we, so will Beauxbatons. Doesn't matter how many of them enter."

"But they'll probably have someone a full year older than us, they'll have learned more complicated magic."

"Will they? They'll still be in their seventh year."

"And don't forget this is only the second time there's been an Age Line. I think it'll be the last," said Diana. "Not that it really helped last time."

"Too right," said Brandon. "Hufflepuffs are bloody due."

Two Slytherins and two Ravenclaws decided to risk classes in Latin; the remaining students followed Ryllis to another unused classroom. "This is a really small building," said Dory. "Why are there so many empty rooms?"

Jimmy Braxton shrugged. "Hogwarts probably has a bunch more empty ones."

Ryllis' schedule had them taking Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology on Fridays. Unfortunately, they soon realized that those core classes were essentially the ones that every would-be champion wanted to take (with the exception of Herbology), which meant that they were all stuck in the same classroom without much interruption. "I'll reorganize the schedule for next week," Ryllis promised as he Untransfigured the cot that Robert had changed into an orangutang. "In the meantime, get yourself to lunch."

Lunch, unfortunately, was just as crowded as dinner had been. Lorcan found himself seated next to the curly-haired girl from the previous night.

"_So does everyone here speak English?"_

"_Just about. But that doesn't mean we'd have classes in it, I think some of the old professors would see that as becoming too much like Hogwarts. No offense,"_ she smiled. _"But enough about us. Where did you learn to speak German so well?"_

"_Um." _This was a long story. _"To be honest, Germany. Mostly. I, er, have some family there."_

"_Ooh. But you go to Hogwarts? Whereabouts?"_

"_Um...I'm not sure what you mean. I'm a Gryffindor."_

She paused, then her mouth formed an O. _"Brilliant!"_

"_Thanks," _he said, then remembered Ryllis' words the previous night. "_Er, Gryffindor House, that is. It's a bit different from here, at the beginning of your first year you get Sorted into one of four houses. And you compete for points and all...Do you have Quidditch here?" _The twins had never been great sports fans, but after seeing how great an obsession Quidditch was at Hogwarts, he couldn't imagine Viktor Krum's alma mater not having a Quidditch program.

"_Of course! We pick our own teams, there are about a dozen. I'm a Chaser for the Swords—we're rubbish but it's a lot of fun."_

"_Oh. I don't play, just curious."_

"_Curiosity is good," _she grinned. _"So where are you...where were you born?"_

Before he could answer, or pose a question of his own, Ryllis was waving them out of the dining hall and over to Charms.

That was actually a good class; with twenty of them standing in close quarters and bouncing cushioning charms off the walls, things didn't feel as cold. Several of their number departed after an hour, and though Ryllis had been threatening to make them go outside for Herbology, he settled for giving a rather low-level lecture on climate and fauna. Everyone was too antsy to pay much attention.

Nevertheless, when class let out, Lorcan found himself back in their adopted dormitory, drafting an essay for Transfiguration. Figured his family's dutiful Ravenclaw genes would shine through once he had left Hogwarts.

He felt a gulp of nostalgia for the fact that he'd be spending his seventh year so far away. He'd be back in time for the graduation ceremony, yes, but a whole year...

But then he thought of all the moaning there'd been from Dan Schaefer the last year when he couldn't get Rosa Ellington to fancy him. No, there would be definite advantages to getting away.

At last, the night came for the announcement of the champions. Durmstrang, apparently, did not celebrate Halloween, but there had been some sort of trickery in honor of the day. Specifically, several first- and second-years had enchanted the doors for some reason Lorcan didn't quite understand, much to the frustration of the Beauxbatons students who were almost locked out.

The meal was unexceptional, (though hot!) and he spent much of the evening glancing up and down the table, trying to figure out who stood the best shot of being chosen from Hogwarts. Jeremy Urquhart was probably the best Quidditch player of their year, though he was no Krum. Matthias Cauldwell had some of the highest grades. He wasn't quite sure who exemplified Gryffindor bravery the best—maybe Phillipa.

Could it possibly be a sixth-year? Cedric Diggory, from what he could remember, had been a sixth-year when he was chosen, and of course Harry Potter was just a fourth year but that was another story. Maybe Margaret would pull it out.

All of a sudden a hush fell over the hall. Arany began to speak, but no one moved to translate until a boy said, in English, "They don't know what order the names will come out in, but votever order it is, that's the order they'll compete in the First Task in. The first task will be...Saturday, the 22nd...somewhere inside the castle...but the Durmstrang champion von't have any advantage." He scowled.

"Did you enter?" Brandon asked.

"No," he shrugged. "But more's the pity."

And suddenly, the flames grew red. Arany reached above them and picked out a parchment. Something about "Hogwarts," certainly, and then two unmistakable words.

"Lorcan Scamander."

He felt numb. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel, for he had imagined such a moment so vividly that it could never have come as a bolt from the blue. There was just this confidence within him that said "Sure, it could very well be me. I'm lucky enough."

But the table was full of applause, the others grinning at him. No one seemed too bitter, or hid it if they did. And no one seemed to be expecting him to do anything, so he just sat back and let the roar stream past him.

The goblet, and Arany, had moved on to the Beauxbatons champion, "Bernard Patenaude." Bernard, or at least the student a bunch of people seemed to be looking towards when his name was called, was a rather large boy with messy pale hair.

And from Durmstrang? "Monika Ziemniak."

There was a large gasp at this announcement, and Lorcan soon realized why; Monika, a dark-haired, rather pallid-looking girl, was seated at his table. So Indira had had nothing to fear; he was going to compete against a girl no more than a year older than him.

_He_ was going to compete. It still hadn't sunk in.

For the second night in a row, Lorcan's mind was abuzz and it took quite a while to get to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Lysander,

Well, I'm Hogwarts champion. Bet you didn't think I had it in me.

The usual—goblet, fire, all those exciting things. Just three champions this year though. Beauxbatons' is a big lump named Bernard, Durmstrang's is named Monika—she's our age but a sixth-year by their standards. No word on what the first task will be except that it's indoors.

We're all taking classes with Ryllis. He's not that great of a teacher, although I don't have him for Muggle Studies so I wouldn't know. We're supposed to be sitting in on the Durmstrang classes sometimes but they're all in Latin.

The castle's really cold. We're trying to learn warming charms, which hasn't exactly been going well, unless you count lighting a chair on fire as going well.

Lorcan debated how to sign the letter. He'd never been apart from his twin long enough to worry about writing to him. And while he certainly loved his brother, it felt weird to spell it out in the closing.

He decided on _Loopily, Lorcan_, adding lots of curls and twists to his name so Lysander could tell it was a joke.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm Hogwarts champion! Really excited, I hoped it'd be me and sort of thought it might but you know, it's something else to really hear it for sure. Competing against a boy from Beauxbatons and a girl from Drumstrang (Zeemneock I think is how you spell it? Do you know that name, Dad?), they're both my age.

The castle is really cold. I'm trying to learn warming spells though. We're all taking classes with Ryllis so we have plenty of time to do homework and for me to try and practice advanced spells. Wish I knew what was coming though, all I know is that the first task is inside and in three weeks.

Love,

Lorcan

Dear Lorcan,

Brilliant. I never said you didn't have it in you, either.

Classes are tiny without all your lot. It's excellent, the teachers can give us more specific attention. They haven't replaced any prefects but Mercer and Beard are still here as Head Boy and Girl, of course. Numbskulls, both of them. Oh well.

Not a lot of talk about the tournament so far, although the Ravenclaws were pleased when I told them. Guess most of the people who care are over there already. Haven't lowered myself enough to scan the Prophet for news but I might have to if things keep up. (Why's it called the "Prophet" anyway? Doesn't it "report" things that've already happened?

Don't get killed.

-Lysander

Dear Lorcan,

Congratulations! We're both so proud of you. Your father says you get your good luck from him though of course it's not about luck. Lysander takes more after me, I think (has he told you his big news?).

Pity the first task is inside, I don't suppose there's much room for showing off your skill with animals. But after all, there will be two more. You'll do wonderfully we're sure.

Keep up in your studies but don't forget to enjoy the experience of living abroad—make friends, fly brooms, and all that. Though I'm sure you'll be kept plenty busy with the tournament.

We love you and are rooting for you!

Love,

Mum and Dad

Lysander's big news? Since they hadn't taken N. E. W. T.s yet, and their mum's most impressive feat in her educational career had been taking part in the resistance, it was hard to see what Lysander could have gotten excited about.

Dear Lysander,

Thanks again for your optimism. Dunno what I'd do without you. Oh, that's right, I'm spending seven months here without you. Can't wait.

Even colder than when I wrote you last. Can't believe it. And it's only November. Now I'm grateful that the first task is inside.

We have to read each other's essays because Ryllis doesn't have time to grade them all. It's actually helpful to see what other people make of Potions or whatever, although I'm reading Dory Abercrombie's now and she has no idea how to write an essay. I just hope my papers get better readers than the sixth-years.

Oh, and Mum says you've got some big news? Don't I get to hear it?

Lonely (but not too much), Lorcan

Lorcan was sitting in what had come to be known as the Hogwarts dormitory (though less than half of them actually slept there) when a knock came at the door. "Hello?" said Indira, rising to answer.

"Er, hallo," said the curly-haired Durmstrang girl. "Lorcan? Also, los. Gehen wir."

"_What's going on?"_ he asked, while Brandon shot him a curious look.

"_Weighing of the wands. Bring yours up to the fourth floor."_

Lorcan rummaged around for his and, against his classmates' stares, followed her. They'd been eating lunch together more often than not; she kept trying to get him to explain the nature of the various constituent countries in the United Kingdom to her. Not being Muggle-born, Lorcan had little knowledge and even less interest in the subject, but he put up with it in order to quiz _her_ on, among other things, continental magical beasts. Not that his parents weren't authorities on the subject, but sometimes talking to someone a little more..._straightforward _helped.

"_What's your name, anyway?"_

"_I'm Elsa, Elsa Konigsmann."_

"_Ah. Nice to meet you properly."_

"_Anything to get out of class for ten minutes,"_ she giggled. _"All right, in there. I don't actually know what they want you to do."_

"_Put my wand on a magical scale, I assume," _ he teased.

But he was wrong. Instead, he, Bernard, and Monika were standing in the middle of a large...classroom, maybe? The judges sat around a table, while an old, ugly wizard leaned against a window.

"Mr. Schumacher is going to examine your wand and makes sure it works properly," said Ryllis. "He's inspecting Ms. Ziemniak's now."

Lorcan at least could make sense of the old man's mutterings. "_Quite rigid, yes. Unicorn hair, this? Unusual mix with the...oh, this is alder. Ten inches, yes." _Schumacher twitched it and made a tiny patch of rain fall from the ceiling, appearing to smile. _"Quite satisfactory."_

He handed it back to Monika. "Scamander?"

Lorcan was privately uncertain that letting the wand pass through that man's hands would ensure that it worked properly, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. _"Interesting. Ten and a half inches, phoenix feather. Hawthorn, a strong combination." _

Lorcan and Lysander both had hawthorn wands, but despite being twins, Lysander did not have a wand twinned to Lorcan's. In fact, his wand did not contain a phoenix feather at all, but rather was one of the first to be made with Slashkilter hair. Lorcan had never heard phoenix and hawthorn described as a particularly good combination, and did not wholly trust Schumacher, but it seemed like a good sign.

The old man waved Lorcan's wand to produce tiny balls of light in many different colors that bounced throughout the room, smiling and returning it to him.

The Beauxbatons champion was last. "_Twelve inches. Dragon heartstring and oak, yes. Very good." _He conjured a long ribbon that draped down to the floor before returning the wand to Bernard.

Bernard put a question in French to Madame Maxime, who shook her head and waved him over. Arany and Ryllis, too, beckoned.

Each of the headmasters began speaking to their students. "We are letting you know a little more about the first task, which as you know, will be Saturday the 22nd. You will compete in the order that your names were drawn from the goblet—that's you first, then," Ryllis said to Lorcan. "You will be scored based on how quickly you complete the task, which will demand ingenuity as well as magical skill. However, you will be competing separately from the other students. This part doesn't pertain to you..." Lorcan opened his mouth, curious, but Ryllis continued. "The area in which you will be competing will be magically protected to prevent the usage of Summoning charms. You are to rely on your own ability. As you will be first to compete, please be in the Grand Hall at ten in the morning."

"Ten in the morning," said Lorcan. "All right."

Dear Lorcan,

Oh. Well, with so many of the Quidditch players gone, the teams are all equally rubbish this year. Ramsey tried to get me to go out for Ravenclaw, I told her no chance, but one thing led to another and I'm, er, the announcer now like Mum used to be. So there's that. Nothing like being champion though I suppose. First game was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, took forever without their Seekers and the Bludgers were pretty much knocking everyone off their brooms. Quite a laugh really. I think Slytherin eventually won but I don't really remember. Sorry.

Other than that things are going fine. Your friend Dan's snogging a fourth-year now or so I hear. Bit gross. Classes seem to be going well, too.

Good luck and all.

-Lysander

Dear Lysander,

Hah, that's excellent. I'm not sure many of the Ravenclaws in our year played Quidditch, though, so we might be able to put up a good fight.

I think I'm also keeping up in coursework, although I'm learning a lot of charms on my own. So apparently the first task will be in the school somewhere but we can't use Summoning Charms—I've been really working on getting my Transfiguration and Conjuration up to speed just in case I need to use special objects that I can't summon. Don't suppose you have any idea what it might be?

I'm a little nervous but mostly excited. It's great having all the Hogwarts people cheering me on. And I'm making a few Durmstrang friends, not sure if they'll support me against Monika but there you go.

Legibly (I hope?), Lorcan

Dear Lorcan,

It's going to be inside but you can't use Summoning Charms? Bet you'll have to run around the castle collecting things. Can you borrow a Niffler?

Just think of it this way. The one thing I'm sure it can't be is a maze, after last time.

Laughingly,

Lysander

Ah, good. He'd caught on.

Indira seemed to think it necessary to wake Lorcan up early on the twenty-second, even though he was awake by ten every day. He had not been able to obtain a Niffler, but simply put on his school robes like normal (as well as one of the fur cloaks that Arany, finally relenting, had let his guests borrow).

Joseph and Phillipa had put together a lion banner they waved above him as he blushed his way through breakfast. "Meeting in the Grand Hall" suddenly seemed a very stupid idea, with everyone else just standing there, but eventually everyone else cleared out. He wished for a moment he brought an essay, but was too nervous to write.

Finally, on the stroke of ten, the judges entered. "Ready, Lorcan?" Ryllis smiled.

He shrugged. "We'll see."

"Follow me." Arany talking. In English! Not sure whether to be more infuriated or relieved, Lorcan followed him out the back door of the Hall, to a locked door. The Highmaster pulled out a key to open it.

There was a narrow wooden staircase inside. Unsure whether this was part of the task, Lorcan gripped his wand, but the Highmaster went down first. He followed, the remaining judges in his wake, until they reached a room with bright white walls. Several comfortable-looking chairs were seated in front of a long black table, with a thin silvery mist covering it. In the middle of the farthest wall was an old-looking wooden door.

Lorcan came to a guess about who was going to sit in the chairs and who was going to go through the door.

"As you have been informed," Ryllis said, "the first task is timed. Once you pass through that door, your objective will be to exit, as quickly as possible, through a _golden_ door that is up to you to find."

"Exit," said Lorcan. "Right."

He cautiously pulled the door open; it gave way at his touch, revealing a corridor stretching on either side of him but a large stone wall directly in front.

"Er. Professor. Would you call this a..._maze_?"

Ryllis nodded gravely. "One might."

"The next time I see my brother..."

To the confusion of the judges, Lorcan left the threat unfinished, and stepped in.


	4. Chapter 4

_Exit through a golden door._

Which meant he wasn't racing to the center of the maze—Lysander'd been onto _something—_it was just a normal maze to navigate through.

_Think._

A book Lysander had read, once, he'd looked through when his brother was done. There were, what was it? Two types of mazes. One of them, if you just picked one wall and kept one hand on it all the way through, you'd come out at the end. The other one, no such trick. Lorcan assumed he was in the latter.

"Point me," he whispered. His wand told him that he was facing almost directly south, so that was probably the direction he wanted to go. There seemed to be slightly more to his right—west—than east, so he took off that way at a run.

The only way to go was left from there. Good. He went forward until he saw a branch open off to his right. Straight forward was better, but was that a trap?

The maze was very quiet.

Lorcan cast a Supersensory charm on himself. Still no sign of any beasts. Maybe Lysander was on the right track.

He decided to ignore the right-corridor and move forward. Soon after, another branch opened up to the left. How far west had he gone before? The Four-Point Spell suggested that he should take it if he thought the exit would be directly opposite the entrance, which he did. Another branch opened up on his left—_that'd be dumb—_but he kept twisting and turning onward, with no end in sight.

_Where's the test of my magical ability? Other than the fact that I know how to say "Point Me"?_

He continued wandering around, and tried to remember how high the walls in the white room were. The staircase they had walked down was not that big. But maybe he was standing below some part of Durmstrang he'd never seen?

Still going south at every turn, he at last came to what seemed an impassable wall running east and west. If his intuition was correct, the golden door would be somewhere within the wall.

Trying to be deliberative if not slow, Lorcan paced along it, first to one side than the other. There were no ways to go further south; it was almost certainly the far wall.

But no door.

Pacing up and down again, he squinted at the bottom. Maybe the door was very small, and it would be his job to magnify it?

"Specialis Revelio," he said, tapping the wall, to no effect.

Well, maybe it wasn't really the south wall. Lorcan decided to walk along what he'd taken to be the east wall and see if there was actually a way to get farther east, then hopefully south after that. There was merely another wall in the way, so he decided to check the west wall first just in case that was easier. He had to be getting close, didn't he? How much time had he spent down there?

Frustrated, Lorcan turned back and proceeded along the south wall again, until he hit the west wall.

_There's no way it's that close! I walked up and down this thing two times, it has to be shorter than that!_

But it was certainly a dead end. Or maybe an illusion? Lorcan put his wand to it as if to step through, but no; the wall was quite solid indeed. Walking along it, he at last came across an opening to the west. Eagerly stepping through, he began making his way through this new section of the maze.

But not long after leaving that intersection behind him, Lorcan—perhaps only thanks to the Supersensory Charm—heard what seemed to be a low, dull exhalation of a rather large beast.

It was coming from behind him, so he quickened his step, wand at the ready in case it had a brother further on. The longer and faster he ran, the more he seemed to hear the noises. Finally, sprinting blindly and seeming to hear one right behind him, he whirled, slashed down his wand, and yelled, "Aparecium!"

There was no animal.

But out of the corner of his eye, Lorcan caught sight of what could only be a moving wall.

It simply _turned_, pivoting on an axis he couldn't see. No wonder he couldn't tell where he was! If the walls wouldn't stand still...

Maybe simpler was better. He decided to go back to his first idea and just keep to the left edge, casting Scarpin's Revelaspell on every wall. This didn't last, and he had no idea how long he'd spent or if he was even setting a good pace.

_Exit through a golden door._

The noise died down once he started following one wall as far as it would go, and he didn't see any walls in his direct vicinity move. Yet there was still no sign of a way out, nor anything else.

How could he know if he'd made his way back to where he started? Not entirely convinced it would work, Lorcan jerked down his wand until a half-translucent beam of golden light appeared on the floor. As he walked, it grew like some controlled ooze behind him to point out where he'd been. But as soon as he turned the corner, he looked back to see that it had vanished. Yes, that would be too easy.

Still, there had to be something else. Almost as unconvinced, he tried casting "Immobulus" as well as "Specialis Revelio" on each wall. Perhaps that spell did have some effect, for he still could not hear any movement—but then again, as soon as he slowed down, he hadn't either.

Could he leave something behind, so he'd know if he came across it again? And if he somehow found the end, just—no, no Summoning Charms to get it back.

_This isn't a test of my magic, it's a test of my ability to guess which spells they haven't protected this stupid dungeon against!_ Furious, Lorcan picked up his pace without knowing it. To his pleasure once he realized how fast he was going, the walls behind him did not rotate at first—the Freezing Charm _did_ work!—but soon after, he had forgotten to Freeze the walls and they started moving again.

_There's something funny about this maze._

_Understatement of the year, Scamander. Well, maybe month. This is only the first task._

He harped back to that first idea. _There's something funny about this maze._ Cool, quiet, almost the way Lysander would have said it. _Not only have I not found the way out after however long it's been, even after stumbling around without knowing where I was going I haven't found my way back to the _original _door either!_

Maybe it had just magically disappeared. Was it even possible to get back to? Maybe things would be different there, if he could start casting spells on the floor to track where he'd been. Maybe...but, Lorcan felt, if he started searching for _it _the walls would get in his way too.

_Okay, so start actually searching for the first door. Then you'll run across the golden one_. No, that wouldn't work. If he still had the real goal in the back of his mind, he couldn't trick the walls into thinking he was actually looking for something else.

Hogwarts had an Anti-Disapparition Jinx on it. Did Durmstrang? They'd said this was a part of the building Monika hadn't seen before...

Lorcan closed his eyes and tried to picture that old wooden door.

_Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

He opened his eyes a crack, feeling the air push inwards against his body. It could work, it could work, even if he wasn't so sure about the door it couldn't have been too far away to hurt him.

And, the pressure fading, there it was. All thoughts of starting over deserted him as, furious, Lorcan hurled a Color-Changing Charm at it. He was sick of the stupid maze. For good measure, he tried to transfigure the wood into some kind of metal that would preserve the charm; true alchemy was beyond him, of course, but it couldn't hurt.

Grabbing the door and pushing violently, he stepped into the white room. "There," he said angrily. "The door is golden. Have a look at it."

Arany walked to the door, both sides of which were shining in a passable imitation of gold, knocked on it, and cast a few probing spells on it while muttering in Latin. To Lorcan's surprise, the other judges were smiling broadly, and Ryllis even laughed. "Well done, Mr. Scamander," he said. "That's one task complete."


	5. Chapter 5

"You _meant_ that to happen all along?" Lorcan swore.

"There were multiple possible ways to get out," said Skjeggestad. "We were not sure just how many."

"You took eighty-eight minutes," said Krum. "The others will start at noon and, probably, three o'clock; you are competing independently."

"That makes sense," said Lorcan.

"You'll be welcome to watch from in here, if you wish—although it might get tedious at times," Ryllis chuckled.

"Watch? How?"

"Zee same way we were watcheeng you." Maxime nodded at the silver mist on the table in front of them. Lorcan approached; he could see glimpses of the huge stone barriers.

The door, he noticed, was propped open and of plain wood again. Arany must have slipped in to undo all of Lorcan's charms.

"Can the other students see this?" he asked. "It must be rather boring to watch."

"We know what we're looking for," said Ryllis.

"We weel, ah...edit the records, so all the students can view them later," said Maxime.

Something struck Lorcan as a bit off, but he didn't press it. "Right, maybe I'll pop back in for the others. After lunch."

He had not expected, when he returned to the Grand Hall, to be greeted by the roaring applause of the Hogwarts students, banner and all. (It by then featured a dragon on the back; Lorcan suspected inter-house involvement.)

"Well? How'd it go?" Brandon asked. "Make it through okay?"

"Have a look at him, why don't you," said Indira.

Lorcan shrugged—after that burst of fury, he wasn't sure what to make of the whole affair. "I'm not sure. Eighty-eight minutes, but I can't tell if that's good or not."

"Eighty-eight minutes of what?" Jeremy Urquhart asked.

"Not sure if I can tell you," he blushed, "not that any of you would go tell the other champions, mind, but...I'm not sure. They're going to find a way to show you pictures or something soon, I think. But what about you guys? Have you been waiting here the whole time?"

"That and doing homework," said Indira. "It was fine, it's not like we would have gotten anything more done in that old classroom anyway."

"There's a point in that," Lorcan nodded. "Homework...ugh."

It _did_ seem anticlimactic to try and do anything of academic relevance. One task out of the way, but had he missed an obvious solution? There'd been nothing _to _it, in the end, no magical creatures or anything.

Instead, he started writing.

_Dear Lysander,_

_How'd you wind up in Ravenclaw, anyway?_

Better to wait until he knew whether he was winning or not.

A crowd of Beauxbatons students surrounded Bernard at lunch, and when the judges came to summon him, Lorcan followed along. Maybe he was just imagining it, but they seemed to be staring at him. Oh well.

Bernard didn't seem to notice that Lorcan was leaning against the far wall of the white room. He listened coolly to the instructions, and broke into a run as soon as he was inside the maze. Once the door shut, Lorcan made his way over to the table, trying to make sense of the images that flickered before him.

It was rather blurry, but he thought he could see a lot more walls rotating than there had been for him—Bernard had very good fitness. There didn't seem to be any methodology to his direction; he just ran and ran. And the faster he ran, the more walls he left spinning in his wake.

Eventually, he tried climbing the walls, but came down after a short attempt. Slowing down a little, he began looking over his shoulder with every turn, as if to see how the maze was reforming around him. He paused, leaned against a wall, and mouthed an incantation—or at least it looked like he was just mouthing to Lorcan, who couldn't hear it.

The mist seemed to grow smokier for a moment, and then Lorcan saw a small flock of birds shoot out of the end of Bernard's wand. He wiggled his wand, and one bird flew off behind him while the others followed him forward. At each intersection, he sent another bird down a different fork, and every wall _they _flew past also started rotating a few moments after they've turned. Lorcan remembered the dull roar he'd heard; if Bernard had the Supersensory Charm in effect, the maze would have had to sound like a menagerie.

As he ran, Bernard held his wand vertically and spun it between his hands, an incantation Lorcan didn't recognize. Maxine smiled with pride as he accomplished whatever it was, but a moment later, Bernard leaned against the wall, exhaling. The birds, Lorcan realized, had disappeared, and the walls had stopped.

Bernard took his hat off his head and Transfigured it into a bird. Impatiently, he cast Geminio on the bird, but the second bird quavered and fell limp.

He took off in the opposite direction of the bird, by then tiring a bit, spinning the wand as he did so. Eventually, panting, he sighed and took off one of his shoes. It, too, was Transfigured into a bird and went in another direction. A few paces later, perhaps with Bernard feeling uncomfortably lopsided, the same fate befell the other shoe.

And so forth. Every time Bernard grew more exasperated, he Transfigured another article of clothing until Skjeggestad was blushing quite thoroughly. Unlike the birds he had conjured up, these birds did not fade, but continued flying quickly around. Walls bumped into each other as birds crossed paths, Bernard running doggedly all the way—

and _there_, somehow, emerging next to the wooden door, was one made of gold. What had Bernard _done_?

A second later, he broke through, glaring, and quickly Conjured a towel that he threw around himself. Arany walked to the door and began casting spells inside the maze. Maxime said something in French that made Bernard smile, and a minute later, Arany unceremoniously handed him his pile of clothes. The Beauxbatons champion had seemed unfazed at the thought that the door had spit him out right next to where he started. How _was_ the maze supposed to work?

Bernard Disillusioned himself, reappearing fully clothed, and exited—he still did not seem to know that Lorcan was there. "Er," Lorcan spoke up, "how long was that?"

"Forty minutes," said Maxime.

"Oh." That would leave a lot of time before Monika began—and meant that Lorcan had fallen into second place. Well, leadership had been nice while it had lasted.

The judges dispersed at that point, and Lorcan followed after as they sat down to have lunch. He had already eaten, of course, but it didn't seem like Skjeggestad or Krum would be back until the Second Task, and by then his curiosity might have grown wild. Instead, he waited until Krum was done with his meal, and then raced to catch up with him. Which proved surprisingly easy, Krum not even being a fast walker on the ground.

"Vot do you want?"

"Er, I wanted to talk to you."

"So soon? There is one competitor left. The task is fair." He almost spit the words out, as if he were angry at Lorcan for daring to insinuate otherwise.

"Of, of course!" he spattered. "I didn't mean that, I, I, just wanted to talk to you."

He'd made a fool of himself, he knew, but in the moment it took to pull himself together and look Krum in the face the man was almost smiling. Some kind of a champion Lorcan made; weak, yes, too weak to cheat. Somehow he'd blustered into Krum's trust.

"Very well. Talk."

"I was, er, wondering, why you'd come."

"Excuse me?"

"Why you were the judge. I mean...it feels like...the last...the last time they. You. Tried. Why would you...why would you want to come back? To all this?"

Krum's teeth paused on his tongue, not biting so much as searching, while his eyes grew from troubled to amused. After a long, breathless, pause, he nodded. "Money."

"Come again?" Lorcan was certain he'd misheard; surely _Viktor Krum_ of all people was well-to-do.

"Money," he said, and did not stop beaming. "You are right, I did not think the idea a very good one at first. I told Arany, if he wanted me to come, he should pay some. So, it is done."

This had quite the opposite effect of soothing Lorcan's curiosity, but he resolved not to ask any more. "All right, then," he nodded quickly, turning away.

But maybe his face had betrayed him. "You want to know what I want with money? Me, Viktor Krum?"

"Er—" his voice caught.

"It does not matter. Listen and I tell you. Before my mother vos born her father was killed by the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald. You know this name?"

"Er..." Lorcan found himself nodding, though he could not have dated the name. "I've heard of him."

"As vell you should. He vos a madman. Massacred...no one knows how many, how many family's lives, ripped apart. Vere it not for Voldemort he, Grindelvald, vod haff been known as the darkest vizard of all time."

There was a pause; Lorcan did not know what any of it had to do with Krum being present, there, on that day.

"Finally it vos Dumbledore who cut him down. Then...years of shadow, not darkness, but...it vos no simple thing, that I had a Bulgarian team to play for." The older man seemed lost in thought; Lorcan was not sure if Krum knew he was still there.

"But now look! Here we are, here Durmstrang is still, here again come the champions from all over. My grandmother is dead, my mother is an old witch. Grindelwald is being forgotten, now."

This struck Lorcan as a rather better state of affairs than if he was still remembered as one who had succeeded, but he kept silent.

"And I am a rich man. If Viktor Krum gives many" here he said a word Lorcan could not quite make out "to build a museum, build _something_, so that people can remember, who counts it? But when it is Arany...ah, now they will see. See that he is in my debt, and look how I have him repay me! To give money where I will, for what I will. But enough—you have glory to seek."

Eyes wide, Lorcan slipped down the hallway.

He read his textbooks for the next couple of hours, completely absorbed in the information and yet retaining little of it once Indira nudged him. "Oy, Scamander, the Durmstrang girl's starting now. D'you get to go watch?"

"I think so," he said, unsure. "Hopefully I can hold on to second place."

Sure enough, Bernard was there too to watch their third competitor. If anything, Bernard was as nervous as the tiny image of Monika they saw, and the Beauxbatons boy paced the length of the table—to the amusement of Ryllis, Maxime, and Krum, the glares of Arany, and the unmasked disdain of Skjeggestad.

Monika seemed to be relying on a lot of nonverbal magic, casting powerful spells at the walls—they shook under her blasts, but to little visible effect. Bernard seemed to exhale in relief at one point for no good reason; Monika was sprinting, fists at her sides, but not firing off any particular spells. (Unbeknownst to Lorcan, she had just passed the forty-minute mark.)

She did not seem to lose energy, but grew angrier and angrier at every intersection. Ryllis raised his eyebrows at a few of the spells she was using, and Arany seemed to approve. Lorcan had little idea of how much time was passing—part of it was just that watching felt slower than actually doing the magic, but she seemed to be needing more time than he had. Oddly, this did not make him feel proud, but rather somewhat hungry.

"What time is it?" he finally asked.

"Quarter to five," said Bernard with no clock in sight. "Looks like you're in decent shape. She's not making any progress."

He felt like he might as well stay around, but it really was rather monotonous despite the obvious effort Monika was expending with each jab of her wand. One spell involved a swift downward slice that she felt confident would work, so confident that she stepped forward as if expecting the wall to disappear.

It didn't.

Monika slowly raised her hand to her face; despite the obvious blow to her pride, she was unhurt. Very deliberately, and gritting her teeth, she slapped the wall with her bare palm. She stepped back, wincing, transferred her wand to her right hand, and slapped the wall with her left.

Her teeth chattering, she muttered an incantation under her breath and clenched her left arm. She took a few steps, towards the next intersection, and repeated it.

Maxime gasped slowly; Skjeggestad seemed impressed. Ryllis looked concerned. "What do you teach at your school, Highmaster?"

"You ver concerned about the Dark Arts, I remember," Arany glared. "She is vell versed in all the old magics, is she not?"

"We shall see," Ryllis simply replied.

Unlike Bernard, she did not seem to be creating or transfiguring anything—once in a while it seemed like she was leaving something on the floor, but they did not move. Yet, while the walls wobbled behind her, they would not rotate fully past whatever mark she had left.

At last, like Bernard had, the door simply appeared for her; perhaps they had traversed the entirety of the maze after they started doing whatever they were doing. She stepped through, pale but smirking a little, and quickly cast a healing charm on her wrist, which she seemed to have injured along the way.

"Two hours, forty-seven minutes," said Krum. "Behind the other two, but not insurmountable."

So Lorcan was closer to first than third. That'd do for the time being.


End file.
